


Enough

by Lunette3002



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Blood, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Jason Todd Kills Joker (DCU), Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, non graphic depictions of vomit, spoilers in tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunette3002/pseuds/Lunette3002
Summary: “Jason.” The voice came from far away. Or maybe close by. Wherever it was, it barely reached him.“Jason,” the voice said again. It didn’t sound right. That voice, whoever it was, wasn’t supposed to sound like that. “Jay, can you hear me?”Maybe something was wrong. The voice was too far away and it didn’t sound right and his hands were cold. It was all wrong and Jason wanted it to stop. But maybe it was far enough away to ignore entirely.“Come on Jaylad, I need you to—I need you to come back. It’s safe now. Can you look at me? Can you do that for me? Please?”
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 23
Kudos: 354





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings from the tags that I’m going to reiterate here: dissociation, panic attacks, non graphic depictions of vomit, minor character death, implied/referenced kidnapping, and blood

“Jason.” The voice came from far away. Or maybe close by. Wherever it was, it barely reached him.

“Jason,” the voice said again. It didn’t sound right. That voice, whoever it was, wasn’t supposed to sound like that. “Jay, can you hear me?”

Maybe something was wrong. The voice was too far away and it didn’t sound right and his hands were cold. It was all wrong and Jason wanted it to stop. But maybe it was far enough away to ignore entirely.

“Come on Jaylad, I need you to—I need you to come back. It’s safe now. Can you look at me? Can you do that for me? Please?” Now the voice sounded worse. It made his chest clench, and the cold from his hands felt like it was spreading through his body and causing him to shake. Or maybe he had already been shaking and just now noticed.

“B, come on, we have to get Robin back to the cave. I’ll help you carry him.” Robin. That wasn’t him, right? Who was getting carried? Were they hurt?

That other voice was closer now. Way too close. He flinched away when he realized just how close that voice was. It was in his space and he didn’t want it. Usually, that voice reminded him of smiles and sunlight and safety, but it was wrong now, too.

“Jaylad, sweetheart, you’re okay. It’s just Dick.” That voice never sounded like that. Why did it sound so wrong? So… sad? Hurt? Did Jason do something wrong? He couldn’t remember, but it felt like he did that a lot, so maybe that was it.

The person cleared their throat and it sounded a bit more normal, “Nightwing, take the boys back to the cave and have A send the other batmobile. We’ll wait until we’re ready to come home.”

“Okay… Can I…” That was another thing that was wrong. That hesitance. “Would it help if I grabbed the shock blanket from the car for him before I go?”

“Sure, chum.”

With nothing happening around him, Jason started to drift back out to the far away place from before.

The hesitance came back again and he would’ve tried to get away from how wrong that was but “near” was such a relative term when everything was so distant. When a weight was wrapped around his shoulders, he was dully surprised. It must’ve been hard for that hesitant-safety-smiles person to get to him from so far away. They must’ve gone really far.

“How’s that Little Wing? You feel better, and we’ll see you at home soon.” For a moment, Jason wanted that voice to stay close. He must’ve worked so hard to get all the way to him, it’s a shame for him to leave now.

The sunshine was covered by rain when his visitor choked out, “B, you’ll make sure he’s okay, right? You’ll take care of him?”

Jason had almost forgotten about that first voice and it sounded better now as it reassured, “Of course I will, chum. I promise.” There was something about promises from that voice that reminded him of bad feelings, but there was hope and safety in that voice’s promises too.

Dimly, he heard other voices in the direction the sunshine had retreated. They sounded upset. The younger voice in particular was getting quite loud. He curled further into the cocoon he’d been given when he recognized the word “Todd” in the shouting. Like it was calling for him. He felt a numb kind of guilty. But didn’t they know he was too far away to be able to help? He’d never make it in time.

“Dick,” came the soft call from the voice closest to him. The shouts were cut off by the sound of a car door. A rumbling came to life but faded away quickly, leaving silence behind.

This silence was too heavy. Too… absolute. There was another time — a memory that couldn’t quite reach him right now — when there had been nothing but silence and his breaths echoing back at him. There was light this time. But maybe the silence could drag him back into the dark. He couldn’t go back. It was too dark and small there and he couldn’t get out and he was all alone.

His frozen hands clutched at each other, ice spreading from them, overtaking the warmth around his shoulders and starting the shaking all over again. The ice was spreading through his chest, freezing the air in his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. He was suffocating all over again. First surrounded by fire, then by darkness, he was dying again to nothing around him but the sound of staccato breaths.

Or so he thought.

A heavy touch landed on his clenched hands. Someone was close, too close, speaking words that were muted and incomprehensible. He choked, unable to make his body move away while panic screamed in his mind. All he could do was strangle out a breathless whine and curl further inward.

The hand was snatched away, and with it, sound returned. “Okay, Jay. I’m sorry. I won’t touch you. But you have to breathe for me. In, 2, 3, 4, and out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4,” the numbers repeated until he was closer to matching them. The counting slowed in tempo and more numbers were added each time he got close to being in sync until the air around him tasted less stale and his chest was moving steadily on its own once more.

“That’s great, Jason. Just keep breathing. That’s all you need to worry about. Take your time. Come back when you’re ready. I’ll be here with you.” After a moment, he started talking about nothing of consequence, banishing the oppressive silence with a soothing and steady tone.

Listening to the voice was too hard. His concentration started slipping over the words like the nonexistent passage of time in the far away space where he floated, but the sound kept him from going away entirely. The person didn’t try to touch him again, for which Jason was grateful, but the talking reached to him with invisible hands, allowing him the freedom to follow them or not. For now, he drifted.

Jason didn’t know how long it was before he started trying to listen again.

The voice was still going. He knew that tone. It was soft and calming and nothing like it had been when it first called to him from so far away. He struggled to put the syllables together into something he could understand. He caught names the best — Alfred, Damian, and Titus now — and while he lagged behind the words, he managed to piece together some story of mud and mopping at home. Home. It was warm at home. He wanted to be warm. It was too cold here. It felt like his warmth was being sucked away into the ice encasing him.

He blinked hard. The ice would have to go before he’d be able to manage getting home where the rest of the ice would melt and he could thaw out.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes down. Those must be his legs folded under him, but he couldn’t be sure, so he moved on to where the ice was the worst. There were gloves over the hands in his lap. Black gloves that felt snug and familiar, but they didn’t usually feel so cold. They were supposed to protect from that, right? But it would make sense that they felt cold if there was ice on them. He needed to move them to look for the ice, then he could go home.

His hand slid off his lap when he moved it and his fingertips rested on the cement floor next to his knees. His trembling hands made them slide a little, but if he pushed, he could feel the floor, not ice like he thought. They slid a little before he really processed what he was seeing. His hand scrambled a little then, trying to trace the red that was now smeared on the floor but only adding to the mess.

“Dad?” he tried to say. He couldn’t tell how much noise he actually made, but if his dad was nearby, he knew he would notice. He was good at paying attention.

The voice cut off mid-sentence. “Yeah, Jay, I’m right here. Are you with me?”

The weight on his shoulders felt oppressive but he couldn’t do anything about it as he picked up his shaking hand and fumbled with his uncooperative body to peel his glove off. The fabric was soaked. He was covered in it — a cold wetness that extended over his arms and torso too. So much red. It was like him. The Red Hood. He’d picked that name out of spite and vengeance, but it fit him so well. But now he just wanted the red gone. There was something so very wrong about it.

A hand intercepted his vision of that red — not touching but present — but he pushed it out of the way because he could solve this. His hand wasn’t this red when he cooked, or trained, or cleaned, but it was so familiar all the same.

The black-covered hand belonged to the person in front of him, and they were blocking too much of his vision. He jerked into motion, trying to push himself upright to see if he could find the source of the red, but it was like his body was still far away even as his mind was booting up way too quickly for what he could handle. He didn’t make it far from the ground before he was crashing back towards it.

Arms wrapped around him with a startled cry of his name, but he could see around the black now and he found the red.

The red was pooling like an ocean across the ground. And like an island in that ocean, was… was a body. The skin as pale as paper, a suit dyed with red as much as the original purple and green, and the red across the mouth on the face, lax like he had never seen it before. Not when it was killing him. Not when it was laughing over his tied up and hurt brothers. Not when it was grappling with him for a knife. Not when that knife—

He collapsed limply into his father’s shoulder.

“Jason?! Jaylad, what’s wr—” he stopped. He must’ve remembered the ocean of red behind him, now where Jason could see.

“Dad. _Dad_.” Jason choked weakly. Bruce manhandled him away from the gorey sight behind him, and Jason couldn’t resist even if he’d wanted to.

He was misaligned with his own body and he knew he usually wasn’t supposed to let that happen, but as his father’s arms merged him back together, he wished he could get away once again. Go back to that far away space where nothing could touch him. But he was here now and there was no escape.

“I’m right here, Jaylad. You’re okay.” Before he’d even finished speaking, Jason was shaking his head.

“No, no.” He dragged his red-covered hand into their vision and held it as still as he could so his dad could see. “No. _I_ —”

He managed to push his recently rediscovered body out of Bruce’s lap before losing the contents of his stomach on the floor. He was coughing, stomach still twisting with the threat of revolting again, but he had to get his dad to hear him, “I did that. _I did that_ . I’m so sorry. Dad, I’m sorry. Please, I’m _sorry_.”

“No no no Jaybaby, you didn’t do anything wrong.” The heavy blanket was wrapped back around him and was pulled backwards into his dad’s lap so his cheek was resting on the hard black armor.

Reality was crashing into Jason. His ears were ringing and his hands shook as they slowly latched on to the edges of the bat-emblazoned chestplate. Tremors were pulsing through his entire body, spreading from his core outwards. It was worse than he can ever remember shaking before, causing his breath to come short and shallow as fear rose.

He tried to tighten his weak grip, but he knew there was nothing he could do if he was pushed away. “Please. Please don’t make me leave.”

“Shh, Jason, listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing. You were in danger. You kept your brothers safe. You did what you had to do. How could I be mad when you’re all safe, sweetheart?” His dad’s gentle fingers felt electrified as they stroked his hair, the sensation too intense, but it gave him something to focus on as he gasped his way to deeper breaths matching the movement of the hand.

“But. But I killed him.” His voice sounded fragile, but not nearly as fragile as he felt inside. He needed Bruce to understand, but Jason couldn’t handle it if he rejected him. If he threw him out. If he ended up all alone again.

When Bruce opened his mouth, Jason tried to brace himself, knowing that if Bruce responded with hatred, he had to remember that it was well deserved. 

“Jason, if you hadn’t, Dick and Tim and Damian might not be at home waiting for us. Cass wouldn’t get to come home to see all of her brothers, safe and sound. If anything happened to any of you, all of us would be crushed, Jay. I only ever want, _need_ , you to be safe. That’s enough.”

Jason’s eyes stung as he looked into the blank eyes of the cowl where he was curled in Bruce’s lap. He reached out, fumbling a little with still shaking hands as he found and pressed the switch to retract the lenses of the cowl. He had to see. If he trusted this and it was a lie… it would break him.

Bruce enveloped his hand in a warm grip as he reached up with his other to pull the cowl back entirely. His father’s blue eyes locked with his, and Bruce repeated, “You being safe, it’s enough. It’s all I need.” Bruce brushed the tears off Jason’s cheeks with a gentle thumb.

His head made a soft thump as it rested back on the hard armor of his dad’s chest. “Then… can we go home?”

“Of course, baby. Of course.”

The cowl was tugged back on but the lenses remained open as his dad bundled him into the waiting batmobile outside the warehouse. He relaxed near-boneless into the seat, shivers gradually dying down as his body got the memo that he was finally, truly safe and secure. Bruce climbed into the driver’s seat, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking one of his hands. His dad was very skilled. Driving with one hand should be no problem.

Bruce gave a soft smile and started their journey home, hand never leaving his son’s.

  
  


[See endnotes for epilogue scenes]

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a page from Envysparkler to include epilogue scenes in the endnotes:
> 
> When Jason and Bruce get back to the cave, Jason’s barely out of the car before he gets a Damian-sized battering ram slamming into him and refusing to let go, arm cast, twelve stitches, and all.
> 
> Dick is going to be a good older brother and let Damian have this, but he’s definitely going to be bundling everyone upstairs for clinging cuddles while he tries to rid his mind of the terror he felt when he awoke from a drugged haze to be told Jason had arrived but neither Jason nor the Joker had returned from their fight.
> 
> There’s a tiny part of him that wants to scream and cry and beg for Jason to never shut down like that again, but he will also never dream of blaming his brother for that reaction. He still wishes that he never has to see Jason that hollow-eyed again, and with the Joker dead, he hopefully never will.
> 
> Seeing Dick hover around Damian clinging to Jason, Tim figures his presence would be too much and decides to take himself and his concussion to bed after this train-wreck of a day.
> 
> When Jason had come crashing into the warehouse to save the day, Tim had been equally relieved and terrified. Tim knows that Jason wouldn’t let anything happen to them while he was alive to stop it. That’s what scared him. He’d felt petrified when the Joker’s distant cackling screams had died out and Jason had failed to appear to untie them. He’d nearly broken his wrist trying to get out of the three sets of handcuffs the Joker had seen fit to put on each of them. The three captive brothers had practically shouted at Bruce on sight to go find Jason. He’d come back pale with news that Jason was physically unharmed moments later and Tim hadn’t understood until he’d seen Jason for himself.
> 
> Yeah, Tim’s pretty confident in his decision to avoid overwhelming him, no matter how much Jason would hate knowing that Tim thought it was necessary. Jason doesn’t need Tim to be there to comfort him, even if Tim kind of needs him. He thinks this right up until Bruce appears at his door not 5 minutes after he gets there to tell him Jason is asking for him. It feels good to be needed, Tim decides.
> 
> Bruce can’t tear his eyes away from where his children are asleep on the couch beside him. His hand has found its way back into Jason’s hair and he marvels that this is something he gets. He gets to have his four sons safe and home and alive, and he almost can’t believe it. But Jason’s warm under his hand and Damian’s sharp elbow jabs into his side and Tim’s hair tickles his neck and Dick’s legs are heavy across his lap, and it’s all a grounding comfort. It’s enough.
> 
> —
> 
> I saw the nickname “Jaybaby” in a story one time and it killed me instantly, so of course I had to include it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I will pet my dog for every form of interaction I get, but just so you know: Kudos clear my skin, bookmarks water my crops, and comments make my hotel Trivago.
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful day!


End file.
